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 Sep 2016
Silence Screamz
When words are silenced, I can not hear them.

They are my voice, my mind and my body
They are the smallest mocule of intimacy that hold me together, I wrap these words around my little finger until it goes numb.
They grip my skin so tight it hurts and I pass out.
They sting like a black widow's bite and they kiss the moon with beautiful sound.

Those Words..like a powerful symbolic weapon made up of strong syllables and even stronger convictions, they are life's little secret.

A secret that needs to be shared, borrowed, used and abused.
But I dare not to be silenced anymore.

I want my words to be heard. Heard across the planets, the stars and deep space, where no vacuum can withstand the intensity of what I am saying.

My words will come faster than the speed of light but will flow more delicate than a red rose's silk petal. They will not hurt you. They will heal for what is meant to be healed, they will be kind and gentle.

Yes, my words will be spoken to any formidable ear that will listen. They will not make you bleed, they will only mold the sutures of time back together.

So try and silence my words, you see my words are driven from powerful thoughts of reflection, for you are the one that will be silenced by the seconds of a deaf ear.
Haven't  written in awhile!!
 Jul 2016
Dimitrios Sarris
A crown does not make someone a king.
The woman he loves and call his queen,
prays and stares from afar, for all the blood
and tears he will spill.
All the people he led and promised, craft a
crown for himself. No gold, no diamond
but pure silverlight.
All he survived and almost got him killed
made his spirit bend but never faltered,
for his wounds of honor are self inflicted.
Power did not corrupt him.
Well prepared to lure himself and pick a top.
Heart of a lion, a shrouded armor and a blooded crown,
he is the king...
 Feb 2016
Love
When you told me I was doing great for a woman my size, I passed you off and told myself that "compliment" had good intentions.
When you called me sweet cheeks I ignored you. A woman like me is used to men like you.
When you told me the stair master made my *** look bangin, I was both honored and appalled.  My *** may be my greatest feature but ****** comments have their place and the gym is not one of them.
When you asked me for my number, you were rude, acting in a way in which no gentleman should act. I told you no. And I meant no.
When you called me a ***** loud enough for the whole gym to hear, you were only making yourself look bad.
When you came up and wrapped your arm around my shoulder and told me you were going to take me out for a good time on friday night, I was terrified and suddenly praying for a **** whistle.
When you insisted I promptly informed you I was lesbian, and to let you down gently, not my type.
When you called me a **** I took no offense, that word has become meaningless. Then you told me it must be a phase, that I just hadn't been with a man like you. That you could change me.
When you said "hop on this **** ****" I was done with your games. I pushed you aside and when you ****** my shoulder back you were the one to end up with their *** on the ground.
Dear namless man at the gym,
When you said you could help me through my phase, you were wrong. Being gay is not my phase. Being straight was.
 Jan 2016
Matthew Goff
Exotic drops of sky
The oceans tiny tears
Sprinkle into ornament
Slow eyelash fire into blue
She cries wet jewelry
And sudden sparks that wink at moonlight
Princess of sparkling afternoons
 Jan 2016
Jennifer
“Mummy I’m sick” said the girl pale white
The mum turned around in an awful fright
exclaimed, “What’s wrong? How do you feel?’
She replied with an honesty “I never feel real”.

The mother just sighed, went back to her book.
The little girl shocked didn’t know where to look
and went back to bed, in her nothingness room
Whilst her mother ignored her nothingness gloom

The next year the girl aged, just turned thirteen,
she called out to her mum who couldn’t be seen.
And shouted down stairs “mum something is wrong”
with the mothers reply “what the hell’s going on”

So the girl with the pause says “Mum I feel sad”,
Then the mum goes on about all the girl has
and how lucky she is, and no fuss should be made
Just think happy thoughts, it will all go away.

To which the teenage girl said “you’re right” with a breath,
and goes to her room, feels like turning to death,
but switches off her light and lays in her gloom,
her room filled with nothing, fit for a tomb.

Now just turned sixteen, her heart had just broke,
a boy that she loved continued to joke
about all the things, she hated the most
her weight, her smile, she felt like a ghost

And after a week, she spoke to her mum,
about feeling so fat and feeling so numb.
Unfortunately for her, the cliche applied,
about how all teens feel this, trying to clarify
to her girl that the “fact” is it isn’t real
stop saying you’re sick, illness isn’t how you feel



This time she said nothing and went to her room
stopped talking to the boy who filled her with fumes
the thoughts of hatred and self deprecation
she knew it was time for her mum’s “education”
to see that her sickness long wasn’t all in her head
it was something deep down that started to spread

And weeks went by with planning and thought,
to show how her feelings and illness was fought,
she searched through the house for a constructive fight,
to clearly scream out what she knew was right
“Mum, I need help I don’t want to die”
but this was too late to say, the time was nigh

and finally the next day she calls for her mum
screaming “mum I’m hurt please just come”
with a relentless sigh, she walks up the stairs
to her little girls room, destroying her prayers
that her daughter was better, she wasn’t still sad
and the realisation of what she said was bad

her little girl kneeling, white and pale,
with blood on her hands, began to wail
in physical pain with emotional struggle
the mum had realised, her girl was in trouble
and picked her up and took her away
to a place where people like her could go stay.

And finally after years of trouble and fraught,
this girl knew she was allowed to be distraught…
 Jan 2016
Ell
9/12/15*
What he didn’t know
What he didn’t know was that she knew she wasn’t enough. She knew that right now he’s begging her to be his, but in 6 months he’d be begging her to leave him alone. What he didn’t know was that she knew she wasn’t enough.
What he didn’t know was that she knew he could make her happy, but she couldn’t make him happy.  He didn’t believe her when she told him so. He insisted that she was overthinking it and that everything would work out just fine. What he didn’t know was that she knew he could make her happy, but she couldn’t make him happy.
What he didn’t know was that her life was a lot more complicated than what it seemed. She made her life out to be something it wasn’t. No one knew about her childhood. No one knew about her depression. No one knew how many times she wanted to die, but didn’t have the guts to make it happen. What he didn’t know was that her life was a lot more complicated than what it seemed.
What he didn’t know was that she was incapable of being loved. Every guy that has come along has tried and left. She knew she was a lot to handle. She tried to make it easier, but insecurities could have killed her. What he didn’t know was that she was incapable of being loved.
What he didn’t know was that she loved him. He couldn’t tell by the constant phone calls, constant text messages, tweets, and snapchats. He couldn’t tell by how she always wanted to be with him. He couldn’t tell by her always wanting to touch him, to be held by him, to be kissed by him. He couldn’t tell by her smile. What he didn’t know was that she loved him.
She thought he was different. She thought that they were different.
What she didn’t know was he was the same, and so was she.
What he didn’t know was he couldn’t handle her, and she told him so.
It seems as if I am posting a lot here lately. Truth is, these are all my poems I wrote when I was broken. I have moved on in life and I am so much healthier.
 Dec 2015
Ava Bean
I am a therapy of sorts.
I can listen to your woes
Massage your tired feet
Perhaps make you some cookies
Or other kinds of treats.
But I am not medicine.
I cannot cure all your worries,
Or stop the consistent aching in your heart.
I cannot stop you from going over the edge
Or tearing yourself apart.
"My dad thinks I'm depressed and says I should be around you more because you make me so happy"
 Dec 2015
Langit Mara
I bought a white rose today. Not for anyone, not even for anything. It's for me. I buy myself flowers; they make me happy. And I'll do whatever it takes to make myself happy.

All my life, I've been sacrificing everything—even myself—for people who couldn't even appreciate it.

And I think, I think now is time to love myself.
I want to fall in love with myself again.

—l.m
 Nov 2015
Jeremy Bean
She's very much alive
But she is dead to me
The decision wasn't mine
She wanted to be
A tombstone in my mind
A grave inside my heart
A perpetual funeral
That has no end or start
There is no wreath to set
No flowers to lay
The only place that this exists
Is buried in my wake
 Nov 2015
bones
I dread the sound of its passing
and the call of its merry chime
on the hour every day
the price that I pay
for life is a fear of time...
 Nov 2015
bones
She heard him on the ceiling
slowly sliding off the wall,

sinking, gently spilling empty
promises to break his fall,

she listened for their landing
and they landed everywhere

and she gathered them like corpses
and she burned them, then and there...
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